Power and Control
by thewanderers'wanderingdaughter
Summary: Few people are born within power. Some people are given it. Most have to fight for it.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: I don't own anything from the Harry Potter universe. I am not JK Rowling. **

**Hello again! I'm back and armed with a new story. Takes place during OotP when Umbridge takes over the school. I was rereading the book and thought I'd take my own spin on what happened during that time. (Though I should mention we won't be following canon quite faithfully.)**

**This is not going to be a fluffy story. This is going to be dark. Language and maybe a little violence in the future. Not too lengthy, either, I think. Not yet. **

**Read and review! If you feel like reviewing, I dunno.  
**

* * *

Chapter 1:

The hurried staccato click of heeled shoes echoed annoyingly in the Dining Hall, capturing the attention of everyone in the vicinity. The din and bustle of the morning feast died down quickly as the source behind the noise passed them, heading for the front of the great room. Acting stealthily, the students turned to each other with annoyed, impatient looks, signaling to each other with their eyes, '_What is it **this** time?' _

The staff looked on passively from their table, still eating their breakfast. Sybil Trewlaney looked fearful and almost on the verge of breakdown, but that was how she had looked ever since Professor Umbridge had tried to sack her. Thanks to Dumbledore she stayed, but he was not here now, and everyone was almost counting the days for when that nasty toad of a woman gathered the nerve to try again, wondering what would happen then. The sharp gaze of the Transfiguration Professor followed the movement of the dumpy woman as she buttered her toast. On the other half of the table Snape made no effort to conceal his disdain, his lip curled as she marched her way through the room, jowls aquiver.

When Professor-ahem-_Headmistress_ Umbridge had at last reached the pulpit she planted her meaty little fists onto the flat surface and did her best not to glare at the student body, who were doing their best not to do the same. The awful pink robe she had donned for the day made no effort to conceal her rotund figure-in fact, the unflattering garment made her look more toady than ever, with pom-poms made of yarn sprinkled around the neck to fashion a collar, but more closely resembled warts when viewed from a distance. Many of the students found themselves wishing the robe was green, as it would quite transform her, but further thoughts were silenced when she opened her mouth to speak.

"To whoever is responsible for the mess on the third floor; if you confess now your punishment will not be severe. If anyone has any knowledge on who the culprit is, you are encouraged to come forth. If you do so you will be rewarded handsomely for doing the _right_ thing."

Across the room, some students smiled slyly, and the more sensible ones kept their faces neutral. Those with a flair for theatrics had the idea to appear surprised. This entire display wasn't out of the ordinary. Since Dumbledore had gone the students had started up their own rebellion against the new Headmistress. Every day left them with a new surprise, another wanted culprit for one act of defiance or another. Nasty messages on the walls in the corridors, an attempted food fight by the lower years, barrages of flying paper cranes or dragons that pelted Filch on the head were only a few. Someone (everyone suspected Peeves) had got some of the ghosts to gather around Umbridge for a whole day and blow loud raspberries every time she opened her mouth, drowning out every word she uttered until she somehow got the Bloody Baron to scare them off. No one would confess to it, but someone had charmed the suits of armor that lined the halls to croak like a toad whenever she passed by them. But, much to everyone's collective displeasure, she remained in the castle despite all their admirable efforts to drive her out. To hers, no matter how many privileges she took away or threats she made, no one would admit guilt.

Umbridge looked around, waiting. When no one stepped forward, she gave a long sigh.

"I know how you must all be keenly suffering the loss of your previous Headmaster, but the way he has run this school for the past years have not been satisfactory. The Ministry has placed me here to right was has been done wrong. I am merely here to _help_ you, don't you see? I am not your enemy, I am your _friend_. If you work _with_ me, we can correct his mistakes." She attempted a look at pity, "It _pains_ me to have to treat you so strictly, but I do it all for you. Unless you all begin to behave like good children do you force my hand in retribution, so effective today, all trips to Hogsmeade are cancelled," she said. Immediately there was uproar from every table except for the staff, who wisely kept quiet.

"You can't do that!" Pansy Parkinson shouted loudly above everyone else, who angrily nodded their agreement.

"_Keep your voice down, Miss Parkinson! _ Until the persons responsible for these…_atrocities_ are caught, I am forced to continue tightening restrictions."

"That's not fair!" shouted Dean Thomas.

"But we didn't do it!"

"_Silence_!" the Headmistress shouted, rapping her knuckles against the pulpit for attention. "If these disgraceful acts continue all free periods shall be taken away next! You are dismissed!"

"She didn't say what it was this time, did she?" Harry asked Ron and Hermione as they walked away from the Gryffindor table. They walked quickly, taking care to conceal the fruit and bits of toast they had not had time to finish at the table. When Umbridge was in a worse mood, she had the habit of ending breakfast hours earlier than usual, and often prohibited the taking of food from the table. They weren't sure if she had forgotten to enforce that rule on this particular morning, or if she was too angry to care.

"No," Ron said, looking over his shoulder before snagging two muffins from a bowl and stuffing them into his pockets.

"It must have been very bad then," Hermione said. "Or nasty enough to make her too squeamish to mention it."

Hordes of other students passed them, also concealing various breakfast foods in their hefty robes or schoolbags. Lee Jordan passed them, hurriedly cramming a brown parcel into his pocket.

"Lee Jordan," Hermione called. When he turned, there was an innocent smile on his face. "How's the boy's lavatory on the third floor?"

"It'll be out of order for a few days," he said, grinning widely. "Unless you're fond of music."

"Huh?" Ron asked.

"Nevermind. I've got to run," Lee Jordan said, pulling a pear out of his pocket. Patting the other, which was heavy with the mysterious parcel, he smiled at Ron. "Your brothers send their love," he said, and left.

Once he was gone Hermione leaned in to speak to Harry and Ron.

"I caught him last night on my way back from the library. He's charmed all the toilets to sing loudly every five minutes. Really raunchy stuff, he couldn't stop laughing when he showed me."

Ron whooped. "I've got to take a look at that later, if she hasn't got Filch guarding it."

"Reckon he's behind the suits of armor thing?" Harry asked, laughing.

"The what?" Hermione asked. "Oh, the croaking, you mean? Probably. He's really talented at charms, isn't he?"

"I'll bet that parcel was from Fred and George," Ron muttered, peering after Jordan, who was still making his way down the corridor. "I wonder how they're getting all this stuff past the new security checks."

"Dunno," Harry said, nibbling on some French toast. "What do we have first?"

"History of Magic," Hermione said, looking at her timetable. "With Slytherin."

"There goes the prospect of a good morning," Harry sighed.

Ron snorted. "Yeah, mate, it's been such a pleasure so far."

* * *

"Seat taken?"

Hermione jumped, and turned to the right. Draco Malfoy arched an eyebrow at her and motioned at the chair he was referring to.

"No, go ahead," she said, turning back to face the front of the room and he sat down, shrugging off his robe. Pulling his satchel onto his lap, he began to rummage through it for some parchment and a quill. In the front of the room, Professor Binns had already begun the lecture, failing to notice half the class was still just barely settling into their seats. Hermione glanced across the aisle. Harry couldn't seem to find his notes from the previous class, and Ron had already sunk low into his seat, staring blankly at the words that appeared on the board as their Professor droned on. She scowled at them.

Dimly, she heard Malfoy swear under his breath. A second passed, and she heard him clear his throat quietly. Another passed, and he did it again, more pointedly. Having gotten the hint, Hermione turned to face him with her eyebrows raised politely.

"D'you need something?"

He was slouched in his seat; hands still in his bag but his eyes were fixed on hers. "Could you lend me a quill?"

She motioned for him to wait, and reached into her schoolbag to grab the spare she always carried, fighting the mad urge to laugh. At least he'd been polite, which was more than she'd expected.

Once she'd handed it to him, she turned back to her notes, but didn't miss him discretely wiping the grip of her quill with the sleeve of his robe. She rolled her eyes. Perhaps she'd been wrong. Still, this strange behavior was preferable to his regular taunts and insults, though it made her feel weird. Her eyes swept across the room. There was more than one empty seat-why choose to sit next to her?

_We all know how he feels about blood purity or-_she rolled her eyes-_the lack of_.

She glanced at him suspiciously from the corner of her eye._ Sudden change of heart? Extremely unlikely. It's got to be something else. _

The class was uneventful, as always, but by some small miracle they were assigned less homework than usual. Malfoy had remained silent through the whole lesson, which kept her spirits up. His thoughts were definitely wandering elsewhere; he hadn't even bothered to keep up with the note taking. From the few glances she stole of his face, it was clear he was unhappy about something, but Hermione was content to chalk it up to the news about Hogsmeade and leave it there, for his troubles were none of her concern.

When class was dismissed Hermione sprang out of her seat, gathering her things at top speed to meet Harry and Ron at the door before moving on to her next class, which was two floors up.

Malfoy had stood up too, and came closer, slinging his bag over his body. His robes were folded neatly inside his bag.

"Thank you," he said stiffly. Avoiding her touch, he placed the borrowed quill on her desk even though she had reached for it and swept from the room without another word. Hermione frowned, and put the item back into her bag before walking out of the room. By then he was gone, but Harry and Ron met her outside the classroom.

"What was that about?" Ron asked as Hermione met him and Harry at the door.

"Nothing," Hermione said. "Malfoy was just returning my quill. It was strange."

"How?" Harry asked, cleaning his classes. They began walking down the hall to the stairs leading up to the upper floors.

"He was almost _civil_."

"Alert the Ministry!" Ron exclaimed, laughing.

"Maybe he's upset about the Hogsmeade thing," Harry suggested.

"That's what I thought. But never mind, I've got to run. See you in a bit!" She hurried off before they could reply.

* * *

Draco slammed his chosen book down onto the table. The resulting boom echoed through the library, earning him a soul-withering glare from Madame Pince. Draco shrugged half-heartedly in reply, miming he had hurt his wrist, and she turned away, still scowling.

There was an Inquisitorial Squad meeting with Umbridge in a half hour. Until then he had best find what he needed. Draco closed his eyes and let his hands fall from the table. At least it got him out of class, but he really didn't care at all for these constant meetings, and they'd _just_ had one this morning. Draco wasn't against Umbridge, but he certainly didn't want to spend any more time in her presence than he had to.

Someone walked past and he focused back on the book, flipping it open but his eyes didn't take in a single word.

_It won't be easy,_ he thought to himself. _Umbridge doesn't know what she's signed herself up for._ _As if I didn't have enough on my bloody plate with OWLS coming up, now I have to spy on Granger of all people. What **fun** that'll be. Shame I didn't get Potter. That at least would have been slightly more interesting than following the Mudblood around the school. _

To be fair, he knew Umbridge wasn't too far off the mark about that secret organization inside the school. It was definitely something he could see Potter doing. The only problem was none of them had proof of it.

_And if they've gone half the year without revealing anything I doubt we'll get any answers from them so quickly._

Off in the farther end of the library two second years were talking too loudly. Their whispers carried over to Madame Pince, who rushed over to scold them. Draco stood up, irritated. He couldn't focus and it was nearly time for the meeting anyhow.

Just as he exited the library someone passed him in a rush, and her shoulder knocked into his. Draco barely noticed but looked behind him at the same time she looked over her shoulder, frowning. It was Granger. He heard her soft-spoken apology but didn't acknowledge it since he was already too far away and just seeing her made him angry. For a very brief moment he found himself almost wishing Dumbledore was back. Almost._  
_


	2. Chapter 2

I do not own any characters/material from Harry Potter.

Here's where it starts getting dark. Warning for language. Some violence.

* * *

Chapter Two

Hermione's feet were sore-she rubbed at a knot in her spine as she walked to the supply closet to stow away the broom and dustpan she'd been using. The rubbish had been neatly deposited into the bin and the room was back to rights. It had been a most productive DA meeting-under Harry's guidance they had begun to practice the Patronus charm. Most everyone had been able to produce a half-formed Patronus, except for her, Ginny, Luna, and even Ron, who had managed to form a complete charm. The meeting was supposed to have lasted longer, but they had all thrown themselves into the lessons so wholeheartedly that halfway in they were all quite exhausted. It didn't help that along the way Neville had somehow managed to cast a Reducto charm at the ceiling and had caused a shower of deteriorated brick to rain down on them. Poor Neville's horrified face had made everyone erupt into gales of laughter and they all had to assure him no one had been injured.

Nevertheless, that had been the last straw for them all to end the meeting and go shake the dust from their hair and robes. She had opted to stay lookout to make sure no one would be caught and besides, someone had to clean up the mess. Rather than use magic, she'd opted to conjure a broom and dustpan to tidy up. Had the others seen her, they would have gawked but she didn't care. She was a witch, yes, but sometimes it just felt good to do things the Muggle way. Besides, a little manual labor never hurt anyone.

Before she left the Room of Requirement she cracked the door open and took a cursory glance around to make sure Umbridge and her posse weren't skulking about. Another, longer look around was reserved for Filch and his wretched cat. Umbridge had more power, it was true, but Filch had more experience in skulking about the castle. Experience had given him a hard earned talent for spying around the castle-a talent which was increasingly hard for the caretaker to maintain due to his age.

Having the Maurader's Map would have made things easier but Harry had taken it with him at her insistence. Upon observation however, there was no one to be seen and she had waited long enough so Hermione brushed the last of the dust off her robes and shouldered her bag, worked a small, inconspicuous smile on her face and swept out of the room. Dinner was in an hour, she figured as she looked at her wristwatch, so she had a bit of time to kill. The corridors she passed through were empty, and that was good. That meant everyone else had left without any trouble, and she could arouse no suspicion.

As she walked her heavy school bag knocked against her hip repeatedly. Hermione frowned, rubbing her shoulder where the strap was digging into her flesh. OWLS were coming up in a few months… Harry and Ron often told her she was taking too many classes, and she knew it was true but she had chosen it, hadn't she? She knew what she was doing, and always proved she was more than capable of keeping up with the loads of homework she was assigned, but still, sometimes she wished she didn't have to carry so many books around every day. Then maybe her hip wouldn't always be bruised to pieces.

Shaking that thought out of her head, Hermione began to wonder what she would do next.

_To the library?_ She wondered. _Or shall I go find Harry and Ron?_

All at once she stopped walking, trying to decide what way she should go. Her fingers strummed softly against the strap of her schoolbag.

_ "Boo."_

The voice came from behind, much closer to her ear than she would have liked, and sent her heart skyrocketing into her throat. Hermione gave a loud shriek and jumped away. One hand flew to her heart; the other drew out her wand as she whirled around.

Smooth, contemptuous laughter surrounded her and she blushed furiously upon finding Malfoy there with his wand drawn. Perfect white teeth flashed at her. With his pale coloring and gleaming silver-gold hair, he could have passed for a ghost had he not come so close.

Still blushing, she opened her mouth to say something rather rude when he abruptly stopped and flicked his wand toward her. On impulse her fingers tightened around the smooth wood, but it was too late, and her wand was wrenched out of her hand regardless by an unseen force. Her mouth hung open in shock for a second before she snapped it shut, clenching her jaw.

"Cat got your tongue at last?" he asked, pocketing her wand. The dim light of the corridor gleamed in his pale hair. Parts of it were colored the palest gold, like faded thread of the same color. The Slytherin was dressed in black from head to toe as usual; the mandatory school robes had been exchanged for a smart black suit in favor of the weekend, very unlike his peers who chose more casual attire. With his proud height and sure, smug smile, he looked almost a mirror image of his father. The hairs on her arms bristled.

_All he needs is the Mark and the mask, _Hermione thought_. _

"Give me my wand back!"

"You'll have it back in a moment," he reassured her with a lazy roll of his eyes. "There's something I'd like to discuss with you, Granger."

"Well," she said, "What do you want? I don't see why you must take my wand from me when all you want to do is talk."

"Straight to the point, aren't you? No chitchat?" he asked in an amused tone, with his head tilted to the side, lips coiled into a smirk. "No matter." He waved his wand and she stumbled, taken aback, as her arms were forced together behind her back and held there by invisible restraints.

"What the hell are you doing?" she asked. "Release me!" She was swiftly silenced, whilst yelling at him she had failed to hear his "Silencio."

Strong, ghostly hands grabbed her shoulders and began to steer her into the nearest empty classroom. The whole way there she protested even though her voice could not be heard; she dug her heels into the ground and thrashed around in an attempt to shake him off.

"Calm yourself, spitfire," he murmured into her ear before he shoved her into the room. She heard the sound of the door close, and the lock clicking into place after it.

Once the room was locked and soundproof he turned to face her, where she had scrambled to the far side of the room, glaring daggers at him.

"Take a seat, won't you?" he gestured towards the desks but she shook her head, and jerked her head to motion behind her, then twisting at the waist to illustrate her point: her hands had been bound too tightly, and she wanted them free.

"I won't untie you until you sit," he told her calmly. "Be a dear, won't you? I don't quite enjoy being alone in a room with you and-correct me if I'm wrong- but I'm sure you feel the same about me, so sit down and you're one step closer to leaving, alright?"

Distrustful eyes shifted to the door, and then back to him, but they both knew the hopelessness of her trying to escape. He still had her wand, after all. Smirking, he tipped his head to the side as her eyes crept to the door one more time, as if seriously considering it.

"I could be wrong, though," he remarked.

Her eyes swiveled back onto him. _About what?_ They asked him. Clearly she hadn't been paying attention.

"For all I know you might fancy me."

Her eyes rolled so far back into her head for a second he thought she had actually gone and fainted.

"Do you, Granger?" he was laughing now. "Go on, give us the truth. Promise I won't tell. But I can't say I'll behave any nicer towards you. You are just a Mudblood, after all."

While talking, he'd been making his way towards her, and the mutiny in her eyes became clearer with every step he took.

"And incredibly annoying," he added as an afterthought.

When he looked at her again her expression had shifted into one of mock politeness, eyebrows arched and eyes inquiring, with her lips set in something that hovered between a smile and a grimace. She blinked once, twice. The message was obvious.

_Are you quite finished? _

"Oh, Granger. You tell me. I told you to sit down and yet you're still standing. Why make things harder for yourself? Are you trying to draw this out to be longer than it has to be? Do you fancy me _that_ much?"

Another glare of her eyes, and she abruptly sat down onto the Professor's desk.

True to his word, he lifted the restraining spells and she began to rub at her wrists.

"Don't be delusional, Malfoy," she said primly. "I know you're desperate for attention but if you're going to delude yourself that I might fancy _you_, then you're duller than a troll."

"You wound me to the quick." Draco feigned a look of upset, which quickly morphed into an unsettling smile. "Is it Potter you pine for, then? Or –_eugh_- Weasley? Goodness, Mudblood, everything about you is _saturated_ in bad taste."

Ignoring the insult, Hermione sighed impatiently. Now, _this_ was the Malfoy she was used to-though he'd never done anything like this before, and it _was_ unsettling-more so than the calm, almost polite attitude he'd adapted when he'd sat next to her in class. It had been a front, she realized. _But for what?_ He hadn't done anything out of the ordinary. He'd kept to himself. She wondered again what on Earth had prompted him to sit beside her since he usually liked to stay well away from her unless he was in a bullying mood. She peered at him suspiciously. A glint of silver on his robes caught her eye and she noticed the ugly little badge at last.

_Of course. Stupid of me to have forgotten so easily_, she thought. _But in case it isn't… _

"If I didn't know any better, Malfoy, I'd say it was you who was dragging this on."

That silenced him effectively, and he glowered at her.

"Why did you bring me here?" she demanded. "What do you want?"

Malfoy narrowed his eyes at her. _Don't play stupid, _the look read.

"Information," he said simply. "Umbridge knows you and Potter have got some illicit study group going on and she's sent us to sniff you out."

_I was right after all, _she thought, dismayed. _Like hell I'll tell him, the arrogant arse._

But she couldn't give anything away, so she kept the curious look currently on her face.

"By 'us' I suppose you mean the Inquisitorial Squad?" she asked, already knowing the answer. At his confirmation she pursed her lips. "There is no group. I've heard of no such thing. Now you give me my wand back and let me out or I'll see to it that you're irreversibly turned into a flobberworm."

Draco smiled again, but it was different to the smiles she'd seen earlier-it was one of restrained anger.

"You sound as threatening as a Pygmy Puff," he said, toying with an exquisite ring on his little finger-likely a priceless family heirloom.

"I could say the same for you," she replied smoothly. "Except for you, a Pygmy Puff is quite a stretch. So next time you want to intimidate someone, send someone else instead." Swiftly, her hands smoothed her skirt and she made to slide off the desk.

Clear eyes darkened with anger, in a blur of movement his hand shot out towards her and wrapped around her neck. She stilled at once, and turned large, furious eyes onto his. Her nostrils flared.

"Let me go."

"Not until I make something clear," he hissed. She kicked at him, trying to push him away, he only grimaced and pinned her legs against the side of the desk with his knees.

"Draco Malfoy, you take your disgusting hands off me this instant!" When he made no move to do so she struck at him, catching him in the chest. "I said let me go, you imbecile!"

"Watch your tongue, you filthy little _Mudblood_."

"Not when it concerns people like you," she said haltingly, struggling to breathe.

In response he squeezed harder, and she fell silent. When she tried to scoot away and off the desk he pulled her closer and dug his fingers into her throat, and she had to fight not to release the great gasp that was lodged in her lungs. Her eyes sought his and she flinched at the hate that showed there. She was no stranger to prejudice-she knew his reasons for disliking her though she'd never thought they would run so deep, but his eyes were still on her, full of anger, and eyes never lied.

He might have said something, she didn't know-his mouth moved but no words registered; all she could hear was her heartbeat, gradually getting slower. In a daze, her hands settled on his wrists, trying to pull his hands away from her throat, her nails pierced his skin briefly before she let them drop and fixed her gaze onto him.

And then he let her go. One hand pressed at her neck and the other supported her upright as she coughed quite violently before she began to breathe in deeply. The colour returned to her face slowly.

"Sure you don't want to tell me anything about that misfit group of yours?" he asked, adjusting his sleeves.

"There isn't one," she repeated shakily. Trembling hands massaged her neck for a second, and she winced while she stared at him, as if still not entirely sure that had just happened. Draco stared back coolly.

"I'll have you expelled for this," she said. Her hands were still around her neck, a shielding layer of flesh and bone; as if she thought he would try again. "I suspected Umbridge was going to have us questioned by her lackeys," she said, "but I don't think her or the Ministry would be in accordance to your behavior. This," she said, her voice growing stronger with the accusation, "this is _violence_, Malfoy."

"You've forgotten Dumbledore doesn't run this school anymore," he said softly. "And Umbridge doesn't give a shit about you." He saw the hurt in her eyes, even as she tried to conceal it.

"Dumbledore isn't the only person I can go to," she seethed. "Even if Umbridge doesn't care for me, what would she think of you, her star pupil, performing acts of violence on other students?"

He didn't react, but she could tell what he was thinking.

_Nice to know he values his standing more than my life. But then I knew that all along. _

Hermione stepped to the door, and he followed her.

"Get away from me."

"You're not going to tell anyone about this," he warned, stepping in front of the door.

"Really? Watch." She tried shoving him aside, and he held his ground. Quickly, her hands darted inside his robes, seeking her own wand, and he backed away quickly out of her reach.

"Is this what you want?" Grey eyes taunted her as he pulled it out of his pocket. "Give me a more believable answer and you'll have it back."

Hermione stepped towards him, feigning compliance.

Once she had reached him she made a grab for her wand, but the desired object was snatched away and stashed back into his pocket, and he tutted.

"Not so fast. I would still have a word with you. Sit back down."

Hermione had run out of patience. She slapped him.

"You have no right to order me about!" she hissed. _"I want my wand!"_

The mark her palm left on his cheek bloomed bright and red, as if a flame had been ignited beneath his skin, but his eyes were colder than any winter she had ever known when he looked down at her. A shiver snaked a cold trail down her spine but she stood her ground, determined not to move.

"The first time you did that, in Third Year, I swore to myself I'd get you back for it. I never did, did I? Guess I forgot, but you've reminded me." Long fingers brushed his marked skin and those cold, peculiar eyes fixated on her. "It seems I owe you double now."

"What you _owe_ me is my wand back."

He laughed then, a low mean laugh before he darted forward and grasped the front of her robes in both hands. Hermione tried to block the grab but he was strong, and her hands wrapped around his, trying to pull them off her.

She snarled. "_Get__ off!_!"

"You need to be shown your rightful place," he said, pulling her closer. Their noses almost touched; they were staring full into each other's eyes and Hermione's hands at once began to feel clammy and numb. "You are nothing, Mudblood," he shook her. "_Nothing_. Your kind is the shame of the Wizarding community. You _dare_ talk back to me?"

"I'll talk back and plenty more, you bigoted abomination," she seethed, and with a sudden burst of strength she tore herself out of his grasp so suddenly he almost fell backwards. Not bothering to look back, Hermione made a beeline for the exit, preparing to try a wandless Alohamora if necessary, but before she could reach the door he was in front of her again.

"I don't recall giving you permission to go anywhere, Granger," he said and she stared at him incredulously.

"I'm sorry-I must have missed the owl! _I need your permission?"_

He frowned at her. "Did I stutter?"

"You talk out of your arse all the time, Malfoy. Obviously I'm going to have a hard time understanding anything you say."

With no warning, she found herself on her knees at his feet, unable to move at all. She wrestled against the magic, fighting to stand again, but she remained frozen. Her bones had turned to steel and she couldn't move; she felt if a single part of her moved without his permission she'd shatter.

His voice came from above, cold and distant. "You should learn to control that mouth of yours, Granger. Such dirty language makes it unappealing. But let's take advantage of that for now." He moved his wand down, gesturing towards his feet, and at once Hermione bent over them and pressed her lips to the tip of his boot.

"Now you know, Granger," came his voice from above, laced with triumph. "_This_ is where you belong."

Her lips left his boot at last and kissed the other fervently, with her eyes closed. Her hands before her lay flat on the ground, trembling with the urge to clench into fists, but that was denied by his spell. Satisfied, Draco took a step back.

"This stays between us, Granger. Understand?"

Something that was not her bent her head down, then back up. There was bile on her tongue. For a moment she found herself glad her eyes were closed; she was afraid of what she would see in his eyes. Softly, his foot nudged her aside and he walked to the door. The sound of his footsteps stopped there.

"I expect the truth next time," he said, and his footsteps resumed. There was a loud clatter as her wand was rudely discarded by the door as an afterthought. The creak of the door opening filled her ears, and then the slam of it closing after his triumphant exit. The second he had gone Hermione was released from his spell and she rose at once, breathing erratically, wiping tears from her eyes. Her cheeks burned and she wiped her lips angrily, fancying she could taste the leather polish of his footwear. It burned like acid on her lips. Once she had her wand back she smoothed out the wrinkles in her robes and found her schoolbag behind the desk she'd been sitting on earlier, although she didn't remember taking it off at all.

There was no one outside in the corridor when she fled the room, and that was good. She didn't want anyone to see her like this.

_'This is where you belong...'_

She hated him. More than she'd ever learned to hate anyone, in fact. So much that it burned her from the inside out, the rage she felt.

It wasn't until she'd reached the portrait of the Fat Lady that she realized she had started crying again.

"Are you alright, my dear?" asked the Fat Lady.

Hermione gave her the password and climbed inside the Gryffindor common room.

Keeping her head bent, she rushed through one room after another until she found herself in the comfort of her dorm, struggling to remove her tie. The sliding whisper of the fabric against the collar of her shirt roared in her ears. Her palms still held indents from the floor. Rather than deal with the buttons on her shirt, Hermione pulled it off over her head, and let it drop to the ground. She rubbed at her eyes, hating the wetness there.

_He's wrong. Everything about him is wrong. He thinks he can order me around like my sole purpose in life is to do his bidding. Does he really think I won't tell anyone? He was bad enough as a Prefect but now he's teamed up with Umbridge he thinks he's better than anyone in the school._ After having changed into her pyjamas she entered the bathroom and scrubbed the tears from her face, using cold water. _I shouldn't be ashamed of my descent. I have no reason to be. It's him that's wrong.  
_

Exhausted, Hermione drew the curtains closed around her bed, and climbed in. She settled, and tried to clear her mind with hardly any success. Out of everything Malfoy had said there was one thing that had bothered her the most, more so than the fact that Umbridge was definitely aware of the DA's existence, more than his insults. The two words raised a chill up her spine, and made her angrier than ever.

_Next time._


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: Having technical problems, which restricts me from posting as I normally do. It sucks, I know.

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter or anything related to it. I can only pretend.

The first part of this chapter takes place the day after the previous chapter.

* * *

**Chapter 3**

The office was entirely pink and no matter what direction he looked in he did not fail to find at least one lace doilies. Entirely overdone to an awful effect, much like his great aunt's home had been before she had died, only her preferred color hadn't been pink. He had been glad to leave that place and was eager to do so now, but he had a complaint and would not rest until it was resolved.

**"**You should have let me watch Potter instead," he told her, fighting to keep the accusing tone from his voice, and barely succeeding. "Or Weasley. Anyone but _her_."

"Mr. Malfoy," the Headmistress began impatiently, but still in keeping with her annoyingly high-pitched voice, "You have never been able to control your temper when dealing with Potter. I have peeped at your record and found that the both of you have had too many-_hem_-discordances in your previous years and your father has expressed a wish that no more black marks be made to your record. If you are hurt or caught in another altercation with another student your father will have my head. He spoke to me himself about this, and instructed me to remind you that Potter is an unstable boy and you would do your best to keep your distance for the time being."

Draco repressed the urge to scoff, and stared angrily at the space above her head. _To hell with my father._ He decided to try a different tactic.

"He doesn't know what I know about Potter," he said defiantly. "If you had assigned him to me in the first place instead of the Mudblood, we would probably have information by now."

"I do not like to change my mind, Draco," she said somewhat stiffly, "and your father was very stern about this."

Umbridge straightened the golden nameplate on her desk with a sickeningly fond expression. One of the kittens in the porcelain plates behind her meowed loudly and Draco gave it his best glare. "Besides," she continued, "You would be the obvious choice where Potter is concerned. There is too much hostility between yourselves; he would expect it to be you if he ever finds out he is being watched. The Granger girl is of lesser importance, but you will learn what you can from her regardless."  
"But-"

She tutted, smiling. "Kindly do not interrupt me while I am speaking, Draco."

When he remained silent, she reached out and gave his hand a pat. All Draco felt was the metallic warmth from the numerous ugly rings she wore. "I understand wholeheartedly-you object because she is of lower birth and blood," the way she said these words, Draco could just hear the slurs she wanted to use, "but it is too late to reassign you. The others have taken their orders and you shall as well. Simply take care not to lose your temper with her. Have I made myself clear?"

Draco thought of a flushed face, a warm, wildly pulsing neck between his hands. His hands felt cold.

"Yes, Professor."

There was a perilous creaking sound as she leaned back into her chair with her fat hands folded in her lap. The look on her face was a little bitter.

"I have observed her while she has been in my class," she began, and Draco did not fail to notice how her voice had fallen to a lower, meaner pitch. It both suited her better and made her look even worse in his eyes. "…And despite the circumstance of her birth she seems a more well-behaved, clever sort of person than her friends. What troubles me is that she is too cunning for her age-that makes her a target and a threat. Previously in my workings at the Ministry I observed enough of her type to know that her nature is of the sort which will eventually turn criminal, the type that _our_ _kind_ must watch for, and I am sure you agree."

Draco nodded.

"She has a perfect record," the woman continued, "not one black mark. No bad behavior, nothing."

"It's only because the Professors love her so much," he said angrily. "Except Snape. She protects herself with the image of the perfect pupil, that way no one dares speak against her because in their eyes she can do no wrong…but every year she, Potter, and Weasley cause more trouble in the school than the ten worst students combined, and none of them are ever punished for it." His face clouded with resentment.

Umbridge's smile was wide; it stretched her whole face to a highly unflattering degree, making it look like a length of lumpy, misshapen clay stretched tight. The pink bow nestled in her mop of curls wobbled as she nodded vehemently.

"Follow her," she said, "and learn her secrets. Question her until you get answers. With luck, in a month's time we will have gained enough knowledge to expose and crush their pathetic group and I will have the freedom to command my school as I please."

"I will," Draco promised, and stood. "May I leave?"

Umbridge's beady little eyes gleamed with pride as she waved him away, and Draco moved quickly to leave the cramped pink space behind him.

* * *

For days afterward there was no other incident. Malfoy kept his distance and Hermione did her homework, went to class and lunch and dinner, performed Prefect duties with Ron, while keeping the shameful account of her humiliation to herself. The day after it happened Hermione had dreaded going into the Great Hall for meals-she had expected to find a group of Slytherins waiting to laugh at her, but there was nothing save for his cold gray eyes watching her from where he sat. For the rest of that week it was the same in any classes she shared with him, and it took all her self-control to keep herself from whipping out her wand and cursing him in front of everyone but for numerous reasons she restrained herself, and she was forced to endure those awfully smug eyes and the curl of his lip whenever their eyes met. Harry and Ron noticed nothing; they were too swamped in piles of homework and in class they hardly paid anything any attention.

Hermione was distraught with herself for having let him take her down in that manner. Why could she not have kept her mouth shut? Why did he have to be such a racist ass? Her lips often burned with indignation, at times she fancied she could still feel the warm leather of his boots pressed against them, and it was all she could do not to wipe at her mouth in anger, and struggle to banish the shame that tried to settle over her every now and then.

_I did nothing wrong. _

The fault lay with the Slytherin. She had gone too far with that last taunt, she knew, but he had deserved it, hadn't he? The way he had treated her throughout the entire encounter was absolutely disgraceful, and though Hermione did not readily admit it to herself, had made her a little more apprehensive of the individual than usual.

Just the thought of him made the contents of her stomach curdle into a sour lump. When she had to walk through the corridors, she made sure she was surrounded by classmates and never vulnerable for another encounter, which she was determined would not happen. Without raising Harry and Ron's suspicions she made sure the DA was more cautious in their proceedings, abandoning their set schedules to assemble on random days and sometimes they even met before breakfast on weekends because the Inquisitorial Squad had taken to patrolling the castle more frequently than before, making it difficult for the DA to meet up; since they all headed in the same direction, no one wanted to draw attention to the mysterious room on the seventh floor.

In the space of time those days provided she and Malfoy had no other encounter, of that she was very careful to ensure. There were times when she wanted to speak to one of her Professors after class, to confess what had happened, but each time she went near them with this intention her mouth went quite dry and she found she could hardly utter a single word, much to her distress. This would not do. Was it fear, she wondered, or was it the humiliation that kept her from speaking out? Whatever it was, it was making things worse.

Often, she considered telling Ron and Harry. _But what could they do?_ she thought. _Sympathize, and then lose their temper the next time they ran into Malfoy. _ _What would that accomplish_? _Only another round of detentions with Umbridge for the three of them, and more questioning. _She had to constantly remind herself Malfoy was nothing more than a severely misguided fool and that was that. If she retaliated, he would have reason to report her to Umbridge, and that might make them hound after the DA even more though she'd given nothing away.

_But that doesn't mean he's won. None of that would ever have happened if I'd had my wand. It was a dirty trick, not letting me fight back. I'll get a chance to retaliate soon enough, if the Gods are good. _

Even if she did tell, what would be the outcome? With Umbridge in charge, she doubted things would go in her favor. Professor McGongall could rage all she wanted, but she had lesser power now that Dumbledore was gone, Umbridge had seen to that right away, to the outrage of many of the students. Surely it didn't help at all that Umbridge was in alliance with the Ministry, or that Malfoy was her favorite.

Umbridge was a foul, horrible woman, but she wasn't entirely stupid, and Hermione had realized that too late. _We should have seen this coming,_ she thought. _It's only going to get worse._

And as for Malfoy…

_He'd get a slap on the wrist, at best_, she thought angrily._ And I'd be branded a liar, literally._ The image of Harry's newest ill-gotten scar was still fresh in her mind.

As Hermione stewed in anger and distress, Draco continued his secret observations of the Gryffindor, as he had been ordered.

The first few days had been the hardest-it was strange, he often thought, how someone who carried such a heavy bag could move so quickly-she flitted from one class to the next like she was a Seeker in search of her Snitch, and he'd hardly been able to catch up. He hadn't been able to pin her until walking that day into their shared class and seeing that empty chair beside her-the idea had come in a flash-and before he could talk himself out of it, he had gone to it. What a stroke of luck that had been. That tracker charm he'd placed on her quill told him where she was at all times, so he didn't need worry if he ever lost sight of her.

The spell wasn't as strong as he would have liked it to be-every now and then it would malfunction and he'd lose all trace of her for hours on end. At times he suspected she'd found out about it, and was simply messing with him, but he knew she'd have the sense to dismantle the charm rather than risk him finding out whatever she might be hiding.

The day after her the attack he'd caught her when she tried to creep unnoticed into the Dining Hall for breakfast. Untroubled, he remained seated and calm while she actively avoided his gaze for the first few minutes as she spoke to her friends, but quite by accident her eyes locked onto his and he saw the anger she held there. Before he could catch himself his gaze dipped down to her neck, searching for the bruises he knew he'd made there. There were none; either she'd used glamour charms to hide them or had healed them immediately after. By the time he looked back up she'd turned away.

_I shouldn't have let her get to me_, he thought, his gaze straying back to her throat. _I took it too far._

His first thought was that if Umbridge knew what he'd done he would have been booted from the Inquisitorial Squad, favorite or not, but the more he thought about it something told him otherwise. Umbridge didn't care too much for Gryffindors, or upjumped Mudbloods, at that. To be sure, Draco didn't want word of this getting to his father, who already thought his behavior was bordering on unacceptable for a Malfoy. While Draco didn't care what his father thought, he certainly didn't want him on his tail again so either way, he didn't want to give up the power the little silver pin gave him, so what happened that day would stay secret unless Granger proved as stupid as he thought, and blabbed.

He knew she would be more alert from then on, understandably not wanting another encounter with him, and for a while, he let her be-he was in no mood to be around her again. Somehow the incident had tired him, and he had schoolwork to focus on besides, but even as he slogged through the ever-growing piles of homework one thing constantly nettled at his mind. The girl knew more than she let on.

Not that he had any proof-all he had to go on was a feeling, but it was a strong one at least, because if five years in this bloody school with those three damned Gryffindors had taught him anything, it was that they were _always_ up to something, and this year he was determined to catch them at it. Umbridge had promised them an extremely handsome reward for catching this elusive group, and Draco wanted it, whatever it was, but what was _slightly_ more tempting was the satisfaction of having brought those three down at last.

One one particular Wednesday morning he walked in for breakfast and while he made his way over to the Slytherin table his eyes slid over the Gryffindor table slowly, scanning the faces of the students assembled there. Laughing. Smiling. Talking. That Brown girl was crying again. One of the Patils was comforting her. Longbottom was half asleep-no surprise. The she-Weasel looked to be in an argument with her brother-were they ever not fighting? Every time he looked at them he was grateful for his lack of siblings. Potter looked dead on his feet, he noted with glee. Almost falling face-first into his porridge. He found his usual seat and sat, continuing his observations. Granger was hissing something in Potter's ear, shaking him by the shoulder. Her hair was in a long braid; the end of it brought over her shoulder and rested on the table, but dipped in and out of her plate as she jostled her friend-when it came back up it shone wetly and something sticky dripped from it-Draco couldn't be sure, but it looked like honey. Granger was too busy to notice.

_Words of motivation? Or a scathing reminder not to put off his homework again? I'll bet a sack of galleons it's the latter. It always is. Granger doesn't seem the wholly encouraging type, somehow. _

Still, he watched them carefully, not wanting to miss anything. The tallest of the three stood abruptly, pulled Potter away from the table, and they left, muttering something to each other. Potter at least had the grace to throw an apologetic glance back at his tormentor. Ginny glared at her brother as they left, and Granger seemed relieved to have them both gone, if not a little miffed at the rudeness of their departure.

Draco wondered what the other two had been talking about as he carved a slice out of his apple. Was the sister involved with their group? His eyes went back to her, but she had gone to the Ravenclaw table to meet with Luna Lovegood, and they sat with their backs to him so he couldn't quite tell what they were doing.

That only left Granger, who has risen from the table and as he watched, strode to the door, pulling on her robes. Her face was a calm mask, devoid of emotion, but when her eyes met his he could tell she knew he'd been watching her. The frown was slight, hardly noticeable, but it spread an angry blush on her cheeks and pulled at her mouth. Draco smirked, and she was gone.

_I'll have the truth from you,_ he thought, dropping the slice, and brought the rest of the apple to his mouth before biting into it with a savage _crunch_.


	4. Chapter 4

A/N: Two in a row! Merciful heavens! If you'd be so kind, take the time to leave a review.

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter.

* * *

**Chapter Four**

"Shall we get going?"

Hermione looked up from the book on counter jinxes she'd been thumbing through.

"Yes."

The three of them strolled out of the Room of Requirement as casually as if they were leaving their common room. The rest of the DA had already gone, and they'd waited a little while longer while Filch loitered around the seventh floor until Harry deemed it safe enough to leave. It was nearly time for dinner, and thusly the corridors were empty. Much had changed since Umbridge began her reign over the school, the most obvious stared right back at them from the walls they passed that were lined with copies of Educational Decrees and insufferably pink posters that illustrated some of Umbridge's absurd regulations.

**Educational Decree #57: Students may spend no more than ten minutes in the lavatory,** one read.

They passed another and Ron scoffed at it.

**Educational Decree #5:Inquisitorial Squad members are allowed to dock and reward points, patrol the halls during class, and be out of bounds ****when carrying a signed slip****_ from the High Inquisitor/Headmistress, Professor Dolores Jane Umbridge_****. **

Harry looked at the neat, curly lettering with the utmost loathing, and rubbed absently at the scar on his hand.

"Neville's gotten loads better at Stunning," Ron said, to lighten the mood, and Hermione nodded.

"He surprises me in every lesson," Harry admitted, tearing his eyes away from the wretched sign. "He's becoming a new person now that he's gotten more confident."

"Speaking of confidence, Harry, when are you going to ask Cho out?" Hermione asked slyly, and Harry turned beet red.

"She couldn't keep her eyes off you today, mate," Ron sniggered.

"Ah-We should start on the essay for Potions after dinner," Harry said, trying to change the topic, turning his head to hide his blush.

"Bugger the essay," Ron said wearily.

_"Ronald!" _

"-and Snape too!" he said, shooting Hermione a dirty look.

"Watch what you say," she warned him, punching him in the arm and Harry laughed, but his smile died quickly.

"Guys-"

"You don't know who's lurking around waiting to report to Umbridge," Hermione hissed, and Ron paled.

"Wise words, Granger. Not to mention true."

Hermione's eyes closed, her expression shifted to a grimace.

_Damn Ron and his carelessness…_

Malfoy strode up to them, smirking. Hermione turned to face him. _That stupid smirk._ She wanted to wipe it off his face with her palm.

"You lot are just gunning to get your own House out of the lead, aren't you? You've been doing so well on accomplishing that, I'm only happy to help. Let's assess the damage…Weasley, that's fifteen points for opening your mouth and twenty for speaking ill of a Professor. Potter, there's ten for taking your wand out-I'll add more if you try hex me. Put it back in your pocket like a good boy and I won't report you. Granger, another ten for being a Mudblood."

Upon seeing her outraged expression, he raised his palms up to his chest, and continued to speak in a mocking tone.

"Don't look so angry! I know it's something you can't help, but," he gave her a nasty smile, "it's offensive to me and your impurity makes me uncomfortable."

Ron lunged at him, Harry and Hermione struggled to hold him back.

"I don't care what Umbridge says, you can't dock points for such absurd reasons!" Hermione spat.

Malfoy _tsked_ again. "Then I suppose you wouldn't mind talking to her about it." His eyes issued a challenge, his words a veiled threat, and Hermione blanched.

Ron stopped struggling, and Harry and Hermione let him go.

"I do mind," she said evenly. "I've got plans." _And I'm not going anywhere with you._

His stare was calculating. "Pity. I'm sure the Headmistress would have _loved_ to hear your opinion on the matter. Perhaps next time."

"Sod off, Malfoy," Harry snapped, and the trio walked away quickly from Malfoy before the tension led to something they would all regret.

"You'd better think twice next time before slandering your Professors, Weasley," Malfoy called after them. "Unless you want to lose more than points for your house."

"What did he mean by that?" Hermione asked once the Slytherin was out of earshot.

"Could he have been talking about the Gryffindor team?" Harry asked. "Would Umbridge cancel it altogether?"

"Search me," Ron replied angrily. "Nearly sixty points for almost nothing! If he wasn't Umbridge's favorite I'd have slugged him in his privileged little face. That Inquisitorial Squad thing is a load of poppycock; she's only giving them preference because they've agreed to work for her!"

"Keep your voice _down_!" Hermione moaned. "Do you want to cost us another fifty points!"

Ron glared at her, but kept silent the rest of the way to Gryffindor Tower.

The weekend dawned cold and windy but the day was sunnier than the ones before it, and that cheered them well enough, despite the events of the previous day. Breakfast was a dull affair, made even more so by Umbridge choosing to give yet another speech on unity and correction and progress…but no one paid her any attention as she _hemmed_ her way through the morning.

"If she keeps doing that every single day, I'm going to start skipping meals," Ginny muttered to Hermione as they left the Great Hall together.

"We could start taking our meals directly in the kitchens," Hermione suggested, yawning. "But then if she finds out, she'd probably prohibit that too." Ginny snorted.

"Fancy a walk outside?" Harry asked as he and Ron came up to them. Hermione looked scandalized.

"You both still have loads of homework to do!"

"_We need a break_, Hermione," Ron said. "Last night we stayed up writing both the Charms and the Transfigurations essays. All we have left is the Potions one."

"Damn," Ginny swore. "I forgot about that one." She looked at Harry curiously. "How're you going to play Quidditch if Umbridge has your broom chained up?"

"Angelina let me borrow hers," Harry said. "Although she almost bit my head off first when I asked. She reckons I should keep 'sharpening' my skills for when Dumbledore comes back, so she can ask if I can get back on the team."

"I'll meet you outside in twenty?"

They nodded. Ginny turned to Hermione. "Are you coming too?"  
"I'd like to," she said, "but there's an Arithmancy assignment I want to look over and I've got a stack of books I need to return to the library. If I've got time, I'll see you all at the pitch."

"Maybe you can play Chaser," Ginny suggested. "We'll borrow a broom for you."

"You all know how I feel about flying," Hermione said, and they laughed. "I'll see you later."

The Arithmancy essay had two errors in it; one was a blot of ink she had accidentally smeared with her little finger when writing it, but had not noticed for lack of sleep. The second was a grammar mistake, easily fixed, but Hermione rewrote the whole thing anyway. When she had finished she gathered her borrowed books and packed them into her bag. For extra measure she brought along a thick coat and a scarf.

The library was nearly empty, as it usually was at this time on weekends. The day was a nice one, so most everyone was taking advantage of that to take a stroll outside. Madam Pince greeted her with a grim smile-the only kind she was capable of giving, but as she almost never smiled at anyone else, it made Hermione feel special so she smiled back. Once she had returned the books she left the library. Normally she would have taken an hour or two to select a new book to read, but the tantalizing glimpse of the bright blue sky that she caught from the high arched windows were irresistible, so she hurried out.

Someone fell into step beside her. Hermione turned, half expecting to find Luna, or Neville. Instead she found Malfoy.

"Enter that classroom coming up on your left," he said quietly, not looking at her, and Hermione's eyes narrowed. As they neared the room he stepped closer, intending to follow her through the door but she kept walking and he almost bumped into her. He caught up to her quickly, and sighed.

"Don't make this difficult."

"I'm not making anything difficult," she said. "I don't want anything to do you with you, but you won't respect that and leave me alone. You're the one with problems if you can't understand the word 'no'."

"You didn't say no before."

"Words don't always have to be expressed verbally. You silenced me, if you'll recall, but I damn well made it clear I did not agree. My friends are waiting for me and I already told you what I know, which is nothing."

"Don't prolong this Granger. There is a group and you're not telling me. You had better confess before Umbridge decides to question you herself."

"I don't trust you," was her reply. "And being questioned by that woman sounds more appealing than being strangled by some brute."

His hand wrapped around her bicep and pulled her back toward him. Hermione stumbled, and caught herself just before she fell into him. His gaze pierced her and her anger rose.

"See what I mean?" she asked, trying to pull away.

"I told you to watch your mouth."

She leaned in close and he drew away, ever so slightly. "And I'll tell you to watch your ego, Malfoy. It's dangerously high. Now take your hand off me or I'll hex you."

His hand fell away from her.

"I _should_ hex you," she said, stepping back. "After what you did…"

"But you won't," he said simply. "You can't." He tapped the silver pin on his robe. "And this is why."

Several different replies were on her tongue, ready for firing back at his arrogant statement but she chose to keep silent. She glared at him, then at the pin.

"With or without your help," he continued coldly, "we're going to find that group of yours. You can give me what I want right now and receive a pardon or you can suffer with the rest when you're caught."

"There is no group," she repeated through clenched teeth. "You're wasting both our time."

Pulling on her coat, she stalked outside, leaving him alone in the wide corridor.

The next day there was a new Educational Decree posted outside the Great Hall:

**Educational Decree No. Fifty-Eight**

**All students must consent to being questioned by the Inquisitorial Squad if they are considered suspect to withholding information.**

**Etc etc**

**Dolores Jane Umbridge**

"Blimey. This is getting serious," Ron said, looking uneasily at the sign. "How much farther is she going to go?"

Hermione bit her lip. "Maybe we should stop the meetings for a while-let her temper cool down. If there's no evidence of the DA meeting for a few weeks then it'll make her think she's grasping at smoke…" She sounded unsure, which made the other two nervous.

"They're going to try to question us, though," Harry said, gesturing towards the poster. "What are we supposed to tell them?"  
"Malfoy already tried asking me about the DA. I told him the group didn't exist. Just stick to that."

"When did Malfoy question you?" Ron asked, frowning.

"Weeks ago," Hermione said. "I was the last one to leave the Room of Requirement, he found me not far from there. That was the first time. The second was only yesterday."

The news unsettled Harry. "I'll cancel the rest of the meetings for this month. Help me spread the word around, but try not to get any attention."

With the aid of Harry's cloak and the map the three of them went around the castle and spread the information to the other members, who were dismayed but agreed it was for the best.

"That wasn't so bad," Ron said when they entered the common room at last some hours later.

"Only because we had the Cloak," Hermione reminded him. "No one could see us. We must have passed at least half of the members of the Inquisitorial Squad and I'm certain they were out looking for us."

Harry ran a hand through his hair worriedly. "This was a bad idea from the start," he said. "I never should have said yes, this is my fault."

"No, it isn't," Hermione told him sharply. "This was as much our fault as it is yours, maybe even more since we nearly pushed you into it."

"Why does it matter so much, though?" Ron asked. "We're practicing spells, not starting a revolution!"

"I think that's what the old hag's afraid of," Harry said.

"But what she's doing can't possibly be approved by the Ministry," Hermione insisted, her face drawn with worry, one hand cupping her neck. "All the threats and the Educational Decrees, it isn't sound…"

"I don't think she cares so long as she gets her means, Hermione."

"At the very least, isn't there anyone we can tell about this?"

"Sirius," Harry said at once. "He's done stuff like this before, I'm sure he'll know." Even as he spoke he could see Hermione's dislike of the idea.

"I'm sure you're right, Harry, but I don't think that's a good idea."

"Why not?" he asked defensively.

"Wasn't what happened to Hedwig clear enough? Your mail is being intercepted. Umbridge is keeping a close eye on you. The Floos are watched by the Ministry-it's too risky, and we could get him captured again if we try."

"We've already spoken to him before by Floo," Harry protested.

"We can't risk that again," she insisted. "It's a double-ended fuse, Harry-if we get caught there are serious repercussions for all of us-especially Sirius."

She felt awful for saying it, but it was the truth. Still, seeing Harry's disappointed face didn't make her feel any better. She leaned over and laid her hand on his arm.

"I'm sorry, Harry."

"Don't be," Harry mumbled. "You're right." He sat down quietly and looked off into the fire.

"We could try my parents," Ron suggested after a lengthy silence. "Mum would bite my head off about the DA, but dad has to know if there's anything going on in the Ministry."

"Don't outright tell them about the DA," Hermione said in a rush. "We're already suspects, apparently. We don't want them to be, too. Simply ask if the Ministry knows exactly what Umbridge is up to here."

"Right," Ron said, and pulled out a length of parchment and a quill from the nearest schoolbag lying on the floor.

"_That isn't yours_!" Hermione hissed.

"It's just paper, Hermione! Not like I took their bloody coin purse, although-blimey-what's this one saving up for?" Ron poked the hefty pouch with the tip of the quill.

"An education someplace else?" Harry asked, smiling thinly. "I'd do the same, at this point."

The three of them fell silent. The empty common room was filled with the sounds of the fire and the scratching of Ron's borrowed quill.

"I wish there was a way we could reach Dumbledore," Harry continued. "None of this would be happening if he was here."

"I doubt he's being idle," Hermione fiddled with a piece of her hair. "That just doesn't seem like him. Maybe he's working on getting rid of her right now, wherever he is."

"I hope so," Ron said, crossing out something on the parchment. "Or else it's up to us, and I haven't got a clue how we'd get that sorted out."

"It's not entirely impossible," Hermione argued, frowning.

"No," Harry agreed, "but right now it feels like it is."


End file.
